Contrarian, page 42
“So … that was what that was all about,” said Emrelda.
“We had a good time with Snaelyn. Almost hated to see him go, but he’ll learn. Have to, now that he’s in the harbor district. Anyway, really just wanted to wish you well.”
“The same to you,” said Emrelda. “We’ll all hate to see you go, but you deserve that promotion.”
Promotion? Dekkard was certain that Emrelda had never mentioned that Sammel had been promoted. “Congratulations! Where are they posting you?”
“Woodlake. Better than Easthill or Rivertown.”
“I’m sure you’ll do well there,” said Dekkard. “You two have been through quite a bit, I heard—and I can see.”
“So have you, I heard.”
“It’s usually rare for councilors,” demurred Dekkard. “You have to deal with it all the time.”
“You can almost make me believe that.” Sammel grinned, then said, “We won’t spoil your dinner anymore.” Then the two patrollers walked back to their table.
“You never mentioned that Sammel was promoted,” said Avraal.
“I promised I wouldn’t say anything until it was posted. It wasn’t when I left the station.”
“Promoted to what?” asked Gaaroll.
“Sublieutenant,” replied Emrelda. “It’s probationary for four months. If he does well, he becomes permanent lieutenant. If not, he reverts to sergeant and is transferred elsewhere.”
“Trial by fire,” said Dekkard.
“Isn’t everything these days?” asked Emrelda dryly, if with an underlying hint of bitterness.
Considering all she’d been through, Dekkard was often amazed at how seldom she revealed anger and bitterness.
“Here comes your food!” called out Chellara, arriving at the table with a large tray, from which she unloaded four platters and a basket of bread, so gracefully she made it seem effortless.
“Thank you!” said Emrelda.
Chellara flashed a smile and was gone.
Dekkard looked at his platter. He could feel his mouth water. But then, you’ve had almost nothing to eat since breakfast.
43
BY midmorning on Findi, Dekkard was in the study working on possible statements that Hasheem could use as conclusions to Dekkard’s factual presentation about the damage and deaths caused by the New Meritorists.
Less than a bell later, he heard the post bell and went to the front door. A single envelope was in the box, addressed to Ritten Avraal Ysella-Dekkard. Then he saw the name above the return address—GAARLAK CABINETRY—and smiled. He turned and handed the envelope to Avraal, who had obviously heard the post bell and followed him to the front door. “It’s for you.”
She looked at the envelope and said, “I hope it’s just the bill, and everything’s all right.”
“So do I, but I think we would have heard earlier if there was a problem.” Dekkard closed the front door and followed her to the study, where she opened the envelope.
She offered a smile, clearly of relief, and said, “It’s just a letter, saying that it’s all done, with an invoice for five hundred and eighty marks.”
“That’s just about what he estimated, even a little less.”
“Some things do work out.”
“Once in a while.”
“Go back to your writing. I’ll need your help in the kitchen later.” She slipped the letter into the desk drawer that was theirs and left the study.
Dekkard settled down at the desk. By a little before noon, he had written two different conclusions. After he proofread them, he got up and eased into the kitchen, where Emrelda, Avraal, and Gaaroll were engaged in various efforts toward the afternoon dinner.
“What is it?” asked Avraal.
“I’d like you to read what I have … please?”
“Now?”
“Now. Because if what I wrote is awful, and I don’t have time to rewrite it, we’ll all suffer.”
“That important?” asked Emrelda.
“The Premier might read one of them to the entire Council,” said Dekkard.
“You’d better read it,” said Emrelda.
“They’re not long. Not like the last one,” promised Dekkard.
Avraal washed her hands in the kitchen sink, then dried them, and followed Dekkard to the study.
He handed her the one he liked the least. “Just read it out loud, if you would.”
Avraal took the single sheet and began to read. “‘While the New Meritorists have inflicted great damage upon Guldor, we can and must do more than repair that damage. We must build back better and stronger, and we must work together in that effort…’”
When she finished, Dekkard handed her the second sheet.
Once more, she read. “‘The New Meritorists saw problems in Guldor, but rather than addressing those problems, they tried to destroy a good and working system because they claimed it’s not perfect. We did not let them do that, and we cannot allow anyone else such a chance again. That means we cannot ignore the fact that the Council faces problems…’”
When she finished, she returned both sheets to him and said, “You like the second one better, don’t you?”
“I do.” He paused, then asked, “Do I need to write another possible conclusion?”
Avraal shook her head. “A third will just confuse him.” Her words were dry. “Either one is likely better than he or his staff could come up with.”
“You’ve never heard him talk much.”
“I was on the floor when he gave the eulogy for Obreduur. Sensing him as he spoke was enough to give me a very good feel for his abilities.”
Dekkard winced.
“That’s why he needs you.”
“And why I need him,” said Dekkard quietly.
“That, too, dear.” Then she smiled. “Let him choose. He’s political enough to determine which one best fits what he has in mind, and they’re different enough that it’s a real choice.”
“I hope he sees it that way.”
“You’ve done what you can, and I need some herbs minced.”
Dekkard offered a rueful smile, set aside the two drafts, and followed her back to the kitchen and the cutting board that was clearly waiting for him.
By just before third bell, everything that could be done in advance for dinner had been completed, and Dekkard and Avraal cleaned up and dressed in “winter casual.”
For a modest additional fee, Gaaroll had more than happily agreed to serve for the dinner. Although she had protested that she didn’t need to be paid, Dekkard told her, “You’re paid by the Council for security and other official duties, not for serving dinners. If anyone ever asks you, you can honestly say that you were paid separately and personally for these kinds of work.”
At just a few minutes past fourth bell, Villem and Gretina drove up. Dekkard waved them up the drive to the portico, and then ushered them into the house.
“Your floor plan is familiar,” said Villem, “if in a mirror-image way.”
“They were likely built or designed by the same person,” said Emrelda as everyone moved to the front parlor.
“This was so kind of you,” said Gretina as she seated herself. “After everything…”
“It was our pleasure,” replied Emrelda.
“You hinted that you had some news…” ventured Avraal cheerfully.
“She does, indeed,” said Villem with a broad smile.
Gretina looked down for a moment. “I can’t thank you enough. I was offered a position with Chaensyl and Charboneau. It was an excellent offer, and I accepted it. I started last Unadi, and it’s already so much better than I anticipated.”
“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Avraal. “We’re so glad for you.”
“It wouldn’t have happened without you,” said Gretina.
“You would have gotten a good position sooner or later,” said Dekkard. “We might have made it a little quicker, but that firm wouldn’t have hired you if they hadn’t thought you were right for the position.”
“There might be some truth in that,” admitted Gretina. “They had several cases that they handed me immediately. Nothing that I wasn’t familiar with.”
Dekkard smiled wickedly. “Have you told your uncle?”
“I thought I’d wait a little.” Gretina’s smile held a hint of mischief. “Until I’m established and he asks, if he does, how my position search is coming.”
Dekkard could see Villem’s beaming face, but the other councilor didn’t say anything; then he realized he hadn’t done his hosting duties. “That was such good news that I forgot to ask what everyone would like to drink.”
In minutes Dekkard was in the pantry, getting Silverhills reds for Avraal, Emrelda, and Villem, and Kuhrs for Gretina and himself. After Dekkard returned and served everyone, he seated himself, while Gretina talked about the legalists at the firm—all women.
When a lull occurred in the conversation, Villem turned to Dekkard. “What do you think the Premier will say tomorrow?”
“I have no idea. I hope he’ll say that the Meritorists need to be handled severely but justly, and that the Council needs to address the fundamental problems in Guldor that created the unrest.” After a slight hesitation, Dekkard asked, “What do you think he’ll say, or should say?”
Villem fingered his chin. “That’s a good question. He should deal strongly with the insurgents. He can’t avoid the mutiny, either. But most of the Commercers and Landors don’t want any radical change in the way things are.”
“I’ve suspected that for a long time,” said Dekkard. “The problem is that some change is necessary, or we’ll have another uprising. That might be put down as well, but the problems will get worse. On the other hand, if we address the problems now, we can do it more gradually.”
“That way,” said Gretina, “the Council might not need to change things as much.”
“Many of the Commercers and most Landors don’t want any change at all,” said Villem.
“I’m so glad you’re not one of them,” replied Gretina sweetly.
Dekkard smothered a grin.
“How could I be?” returned Villem in an amused tone. “I’m married to you.”
“Now that you’ve been in Machtarn for a few months,” said Emrelda, clearly steering the conversation off politics, “how are you finding it?”
“Much warmer,” said Villem, “among other things.”
“I wasn’t sure I’d like it at all,” admitted Gretina, “but it’s been a pleasant surprise, especially occupationally. I had several other inquiries, and they were serious. Far more interest here than in Suvion.”
“You even found a spirits shop that carries Riverfall,” said Dekkard, “a discovery I never made in over two years.”
“You didn’t have to,” said Avraal. “Until we were married, you weren’t the one buying the lager.”
From what Avraal and Emrelda had said so far, Dekkard could tell that there would be no more discussion of politics, and that if either he or Villem mentioned anything along those lines, it wouldn’t last long.
That was fine with Dekkard. He was looking forward to the lamb with the rosemary cream sauce, the potato soufflé, and the green beans with sautéed mushrooms, not to mention the apple tarts.
44
WELL after the apple tarts, and the departure of Villem and Gretina, and the cleaning up, Dekkard and Avraal found themselves alone in the sitting room.
“That went well,” he observed.
“Without politics.”
“You and Emrelda saw to that,” he pointed out.
“And Gretina,” added Avraal. “But you and Villem were good about it.”
Dekkard smiled. As if we had that much choice.
Avraal laughed softly. “I saw that smile.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You didn’t have to.” She tilted her head slightly, then said, “I have the feeling that the Baars won’t be going back to Suvion any time soon.”
“Not if she has anything to say about it, and there’s no doubt she has a lot to say. As does someone else I know, although you often say it without uttering a word.”
“Gretina must have felt very constricted in Suvion.”
“You mean as the wife of the semi-important legalist and as a mere woman who doubtless had to defer to legalists superior in position to her husband, when she was often brighter than any of them?”
“When both of them were,” replied Avraal. “Sometimes, it’s harder to be quiet when someone you love is belittled than when you’re the target.”
“It was likely hard on him, too. He’s pretty direct about how intelligent she is. That might be another reason why he accepted the selection as councilor, even if the Commercers push him out in the next election.”
“You think they will, don’t you?”
“It’s not a certainty, but he’s in a much more precarious position than I am—politically, I mean. His district is much more Commercer, and with Ulrich working for Suvion Industries, if there’s any hint that Villem’s not a good Commercer, they’ll put someone else up in the next election.” Dekkard smiled sardonically. “That sort of attitude is another reason why we can’t let the Meritorists win. Under the Great Charter as it now stands, Villem or any other councilor can at least occasionally vote for what he or she thinks is best, against what the Commercer floor leader wants. Under a system where every vote is known, if you wanted to keep your seat, the choice would be between the party line or what’s popular. Too often, neither is the right choice.”
“People would say that’s elitist or snobbish, as if the popular choice is always wrong or bad.”
“That’s not the problem. What people want is often what they need or deserve. The problem is that the Council can’t provide all those needs without increasing taxes, and taxes aren’t popular.” Dekkard shook his head. “You know where that goes, and we’ve talked about that before. There’s no point in going over it again.”
“A year ago, I would have heard the whole explanation.” She leaned forward and took his hand. “It was a good and enjoyable day, and it’s time to go upstairs.” She stood.
So did Dekkard. He definitely liked the words she’d used.
45
DEKKARD, Avraal, and Gaaroll were out of the house early on Unadi morning under a cloudy sky, with warmer air coming from the south and clouds that suggested rain. Dekkard carried his leather folder, and Avraal had an envelope containing a cheque for Gaarlak Cabinetry.
He immediately drove Avraal to Baartol’s office, after which he headed for the Council Hall, where he left the Gresynt in the covered parking. As he and Gaaroll walked past the west end of the Council Office Building, he could see that the stonemasons appeared to be close to finishing the repairs to the walls and façade of the northwest corner of the building.
But then, the stonework is often the easiest part. At least, if it didn’t have to be custom sculpted, which wasn’t required for the Council Office Building.
The west doors were still blocked off, and he and Gaaroll walked along the south side of the building and to the usually locked, but now open, south gate into the courtyard, and from there into the Council Hall, and then to the Premier’s floor office, where the guards nodded as he and Gaaroll entered.
“Good morning, Meldra,” said Dekkard warmly.
“Good morning, Councilor. The Premier said you’d be early and for you to go right in.”
After taking off his overcoat, and with his gray leather folder in hand, Dekkard entered the small inner office, closing the door behind himself. “Good morning, Fredrich.”
“Good morning, Steffan.” Hasheem did not stand and gestured to the chairs.
Dekkard opened his folder and took out the papers, setting them separately on the desk facing Hasheem. “I have three items for you. The three sheets at the end are the factual summary you requested. When I completed writing and revising, it felt … unfinished … as if it needed a conclusion. So I wrote two different versions. They may not be what you had in mind, but they’re yours to use, adapt, or discard … as you see fit.” Dekkard seated himself and waited.
“Let me read the factual one first. Then, if I have any questions, you’ll be handy.” Hasheem picked up the sheets and began to read, occasionally nodding as he continued. When he finished, he set the sheets on the desk. “That’s an excellent factual summary. No overstatement, no embellishment, just the facts.” The Premier paused. “I do see what you mean, though. It does seem to need a conclusion. Let’s see what you have here.”
Dekkard watched as Hasheem picked up the slightly harsher conclusion and began to read. Dekkard noticed several frowns, but managed to keep a pleasant expression on his face.
Without saying a word, Hasheem set down the first and started on the second, again frowning upon occasion. When he finished, he set it down and looked at Dekkard. “You have some good words and thoughts here. I trust you won’t mind if I rearrange them somewhat.”
“They’re yours to use as you see fit. As I said earlier, I just felt a factual recounting needed a conclusion. I thought you already might have something in mind, but I wrote those to possibly add to what you had.”
“I appreciate that, Steffan.”
While Dekkard wanted to ask what might be new, he merely said, “Is there anything else you need?”
Hasheem smiled pleasantly, but not effusively. “Not right now. I’ll see you tomorrow morning as usual.”
“I look forward to hearing what you have to say to the Council.” Dekkard offered an equally pleasant smile and stood.
“Thank you again, Steffan.”
“I’m glad I could help.”
Dekkard made his way out, gently closing the door. Then he picked up his overcoat and turned to the secretary. “We’ll see you again tomorrow, Meldra.”
